


The Art of Distraction

by Anonymous



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alcohol, But that sure as hell went to shits pretty fast, Getting Together, M/M, Pre-Slash, So I was going for a drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Secret Admirers ficlet for A-Pen-In-The-Paw :) Thank you for all your writing!





	The Art of Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dandelionpower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionpower/gifts).



> Secret Admirers ficlet for A-Pen-In-The-Paw :) Thank you for all your writing!

The hunger was unbearable.

It had been six months since Mitchell last fed and he was barely conscious as he staggered down a dark alley, beep in the heart of the city’s red-light district.

Searching for someone who might deserve to die. If Mitchell was to be the curse of this world, at least he could take a couple of bastards with him.

“You don’t look so good,” someone slurred to his right nonchalantly.

Mitchell’s senses focussed on the warm skin and the smell of expensive cologne and that was it.

All his best-laid plans have gone to hell.

The man struggled, briefly, didn’t stand a chance against the predator and killer inside the tortured soul Mitchell still insisted on dutifully carrying around. It didn’t matter. There would be no sound, he’d rip the man’s throat out and feast on the warm blood gushing out –

The alcohol hit him like a ton of bricks.

He choked, actually choked for the first time in centuries and felt as if he’d taken a too big a hit on his very first joint.

“Ow…” someone whispered, uncharacteristically softly, as Mitchell stumbled away, vision doubling.

The man tasted as if he had more vodka in his bloodstream than actual blood, all of which flooded Mitchell’s own veins, making him instantly plastered between one heartbeat and another. It wasn’t like when he was drinking, it didn’t give him the benefit of passing through his digestive system first.

No. this blood was oblivion and even the Monster inside of him recoiled from it.

“Hey!” the man finally seemed to catch on to what was happening. “That’s mine! You give that back!” he demanded.

“Uh…” Mitchell managed, not very intelligently and despite himself licked his lips.

“Ew! Is that blood?”

He watched in horror as the man passed out right in front of him, crumpling to the ground. Whether it was from the alcohol poisoning, blood loss or his own peculiar sensibilities, there was no way to tell.

 _Now what?!_ Mitchell considered desperately, as he cautiously approached the prone figure on the pavement.

 _Finish your meal_ part of him insisted.

 _He needs help_ , another part whispered, gently, and sunk its claws deep into his heart. _He needs more help than just to be collected from here and taken somewhere help. He needs to be saved_.

John Mitchell had an excellent sense of humour and the prospect of a vampire-saviour wasn’t lost on him as a massive _fuck you_ to the fate.

Feeling like he might puke any minute, he hauled the senseless body upright, draped it over his shoulder and softly whimpering made his way home.

 

* * *

 

Anders Johnson woke up with a hangover from hell.

That he woke up at all was a bit of a puzzle, but he quickly got over it, with all the grace of a drunk who can only think about one thing:

Water.

Conveniently, there was a glass full of the wonderful substance on the coffee table next to him, and a tablet of Alka-Seltzer to go with it. Anders blinked, but who was he to argue with the hand of fate?

By the time he’d drained three quarters of the glass, other interesting facts began occurring to him.

Firstly that he was wrapped in what appeared to be a warm duvet, which still smelled as if it came right out of a packet.

Secondly, he appeared to have passed out on top of someone’s sofa, though whose, Anders had no idea. His previous experiences suggested some busty blonde.

Finally his neck was tightly wrapped in a bandage and appeared to hurt at least as much as his head.

Curious.

He must have been up to either to something extra kinky or extra dangerous the night before.

It was at that moment that someone gave a pitiful whimper from the floor and Anders discovered that the pattern had been somewhat broken and instead of a busty blond, he had a gorgeous, long-limbed, fuck-me sideways-hot, dark-eyed man for a date.

Current Anders congratulated his Past Self profusely.

“Water –“ the man rasped out and started blindly feeling atop the coffee table.

“Sorry, drank it.

“Hnnng-?”

Anders tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in thought, as the man crawled unsteadily to his knees to check the coffee table for himself, showing off his perfect ass in the process.

The dish of a man stared an Anders with something between accusation, panic and a plea for help.

Anders stared back and passed him the last inch of water left in his glass.

The man drank; Anders continued to stare.

“So… from where I’m sitting, you’re a vampire who attacked me last night, got wrecked on the little tipple I’ve had before, ended up having cold feet and for some unfathomable reason decided to take me home and tuck me in on your sofa.”

Anders was still tipsy enough that the most direct explanation seemed to be the most obvious one and his faculties weren’t quite back enough yet to scream petty warnings about the danger he was in.

“Uh…” the vampire said and rolled his gaze around the room in search of more water or an escape route, Anders wasn’t sure.

“That’s okay. I can work around that,” he told the man and patted his knee for emphasis.

“You can?”

“I have only two questions,” Anders cleared his throat. He had his standards. “First one is whether you have your own source of income. I don’t like free-loaders.”

“I work at the hospital –“

“That’ll do.”

“Now the second one: do you swallow?”

The vampire stared.

Anders stared back.

“… Well, I don’t need to breathe and I don’t have a gag reflex, so –“

“Sold!”


End file.
